Giles's Sunday
by dreamerjules
Summary: Set Season 2. Giles is still dealing with Jenny's death.


**GILES' SUNDAY AFTERNOON**

He leaned against the door after shutting it. The church service had done nothing to ease the restlessness he felt. Although it had been decades since he had attended church, he had hoped the rituals at least would soothe his soul if not the content. But it was not to be.

His eyes drifted up the stairs towards his bedroom.

"Jenny." The sound of breaking glass rang in his ears.

"No."

The car was in third gear before he realized he had fled. Where should he go now? Not Buffy's. She was in Los Angeles visiting her father and her mother was on a buying trip for the gallery. Willow's? He smiled ruefully. Mr. Rosenberg was all ready suspicious of the time his daughter spent in the librarian's company. What would he say if said librarian showed up on his doorstep on a Sunday afternoon? No, not Willow's either. He dismissed the idea of going to Xander's before it had fully formed. He couldn't be in his apartment and he couldn't be with the people he was closest to. The school was not even an option. Truth be told, he wanted to get as far away from Sunnydale as possible and stay away as long as possible. Perhaps he could go home to England over summer break. Pretend Sunnydale didn't exist. Maybe he would get a position at a green grocer's - just for the summer.

He jumped as a car horn blared to his left. Taking stock of his surroundings, he realized he had left the Sunnydale city limits and was heading north. He had not explored much of the area surrounding the town, except for sites directly related to his duties as Watcher. Which pretty much eliminated everything except the school, the cemetery and his apartment. He nudged the accelerator a little closer to the floorboard and rolled down the window. There was a slight hint of salty sea air on the wind. Turning on the car radio, the first sounds that reached his ears was Roger Daltrey asking, "Who are you?"

"Who am I indeed?" and the accelerator edged still closer to the floorboard.

He did a brilliant job of shutting out all thoughts after that. The miles slipped away and Sunnydale receded even further into the background. Reality intruded back in with a jerk all too soon. Looking at the driver's console, he saw to his dismay that the gas gauge was firmly settled on E.

"Damn." He remembered passing a small gas station, but how far back was it? He'd have to chance it. At least if he ran out of gas before getting to the station, he wouldn't have as far to walk. Not that he would mind a good walk normally, but the sky indicated that it was getting closer to late afternoon than he had previously thought. And with night approaching, he could no longer hide from his responsibilities. For what else was there to go back to but his responsibilities? Where would he be without those responsibilities? Where would Jenny be without those responsibilities? Would she still be alive? Would they be together? How could he have let….

The car sputtered from lack of fuel and Rupert was just able to make it onto the shoulder before the car died altogether.

"Damn."

Nothing for it but to walk and hope it wasn't too far.

After only about half a mile, he saw an old Victorian style house and a ramshackle petrol station nestled in the shadow of the old house.

"Doesn't look as if anyone has lived here for years. Perhaps even decades. Maybe there will at least be a phone I can use to call AAA."

Walking up to the door of the station, he saw someone behind the counter. Relieved, he opened the door, but to his surprise no one was there.

"I could have sworn…. Hello. Is anyone here?" The station was only one room with a door leading directly opposite the front door. He started towards that door to see if perhaps that's where the person he had seen had gone when a female voice stopped him.

"Can I help you?"

"No. Yes, actually you can. My car has run out of petrol, um gas, and as this is a service station, I was hoping to find some petrol - gas. It's just up the road."

"We can help you with gas. If you'll just give your keys to Jimmy, he and Bass will get you some gas and bring the car back here."

"That really won't be necessary. I could just pick up a gas can and walk back."

"Nonsense. Come up to the house while you wait and I'll make a pot of tea. Jimmy and Bass won't be long."

"Angel, we're ready to go if you got those keys."

Rupert nearly jumped out of his skin. The person speaking was less than three feet from him and Rupert hadn't an inkling he was there. Automatically, he reached into his pocket and handed over his car keys. The tall, gangly young man called Jimmy pocketed the keys. Rupert wondered how he could see with the shock of dull brown hair in his eyes.

"It's about half a mile up the road. It's a brown Citroen and has a manual transmission that's very touchy."

"We can handle it." Jimmy turned and headed out the door. Rupert's gaze locked with Bass' for a moment before he too turned to follow Jimmy. Slightly shorter than his companion, Bass' dark eyes were level with Rupert's. Bass smiled slightly and nodded.

Rupert felt a strange sense of calm fall over him. How could anything go wrong with these nice young men looking after his car. He turned back to the woman when Jimmy and Bass left. One of them had called her Angel and he could certainly see why. The light behind her gave a halo effect to her red hair and her smile was one of the sweetest he had ever seen outside of Willow's. But there was nothing angelic about her eyes. They radiated mischief and laughter and life. So much like Jenny's when they first met.

She started towards the house and he followed. One cup of tea couldn't hurt. He hoped.

She led him around to a side door that opened onto the kitchen. He at first had trouble placing the aroma, but his face lit up when he finally did.

"That's shepherd's pie."

"Very astute. Would you like some?" She gestured for Rupert to take a seat while she took the kettle off the stove and went to the sink. A breeze drifted through the half-opened window rustling the curtains.

"No. I really must be heading back." Rupert settled into the kitchen chair farthest from this unique young woman. Not because he didn't want to be close to her, but because it afforded him a better vantage point from which to watch her.

"Back where?"

"Sunnydale." The young woman had placed the kettle on the stove and was now leaning against the kitchen counter. Rupert was struck with the oddest feeling of déjà vu. He had never met this person before, yet it felt as though they had been together in this kitchen, this house, a hundred times before. He searched her face, her eyes for some indication that she felt the same disconnectedness, but he saw only warm interest in her deep green eyes.

"What do you do there?" He suddenly realized that he had no desire to be Rupert Giles, high school librarian and Watcher to the Vampire Slayer, with her. And why should he be? The chances of him ever seeing this lovely young woman again were, sadly, non-existent. What reason would he have to come back out here? It might even be fun.

"I'm a writer. Historical novels mostly. Even tried my hand at a screenplay once." _Where did that come from? Oh, well, in for a penny, in for a pound._

"Anything I would have seen?" The kettle began whistling and she got the teapot off the table. He couldn't quite place the scent coming form her. Hints of lavender and jasmine, with just a touch of lemon, maybe.

"No. I haven't sold it."

"Well, good luck. I'm Angela Mays by the way and you are?"

"Edward. Edward Maxwell."

"Pleased to meet you, Edward. The milk and sugar for the tea is on the table and mugs are in the cupboard next to the fridge." She poured the hot water into the teapot while Rupert got the mugs out of the cupboard. "So, how long have you been in the States?"

"About 2 years."

"Do you like it?" Angela set down next to him in the chair closest to the stove.

"No. Yes. No. Not as much as England. California does have its good points though."

"Such as?" Rupert smiled at the laugh he heard in her voice.

"I can't think of a single one at the moment." He dropped his eyes after a moment. Her gaze was so direct and honest and trusting he couldn't help but think of Willow again. And the fact that he was lying. "Where did you learn to make such a good cup of tea?"

"Surprised? My maternal grandmother's English. I used to spend school holidays in Cheltenham with her till she passed away."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. She was in her 80's and ready to go home."

"Go home. I don't think I've ever heard it phrased that way before. It sounds pleasant." Giles cringed inwardly at the wistfulness he heard n his voice. He longed to believe that in spite of the violence of her death, Jenny was at peace now. But he couldn't believe that. He couldn't allow himself to take comfort from that.

"It can be."

"Excuse me?" Rupert leaned forward.

"Everyone has a set time on this earth. When that time is up, it can be beautiful. Death is a large part of life. I don't really understand why we've separated life and death so completely in the modern world."

"What about young people and children? People who haven't even begun to live their lives?"

"A person may die sooner than we would like them to, but that doesn't mean they haven't spent their full time on this world."

"This world? Do you think there are other worlds?"

"Of course. Don't you?" For a moment, he envied her matter of fact acceptance of the idea. He comforted himself with the thought that she didn't really understand those other worlds she talked about so casually.

"No. I don't believe I do anymore."

"Did you once?"

"Yes, I suppose I did."

"What happened…. No, let me guess. You lost someone close to you and all you feel is the emptiness of where that person use to be in your life."

"You're a very good guesser." Rupert shifted in his chair. Hadn't he come all this way not to think about…well, anything really?

"And then of course there's the guilt. You should have been able to prevent it. I should have been you who died instead. You should have done whatever it took to keep her alive, but you didn't and now she's dead. It was a she, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was. How did you know all that?" He sat back in his chair.

"It's not all that difficult. I just read people very well and you're not really hiding a lot right now."

"I'll have to try harder." Rupert smiled shyly and found himself looking away from her all too perceptive eyes.

"Why? Shutting people out just means that you have to deal with the pain longer. And if you hold on to the pain, it tarnishes the good memories." Angela paused. In the silence, Rupert's eyes returned to her face. "I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn, but I hate suffering and waste. Mourn her. Don't forget her. But don't let mourning her become your life."

"Why do you care? It's not as if you know me or anything about me." It was Rupert's turn to do the staring. To make her feel uncomfortable. He would have reacted differently if anyone else had said these things. But this young woman. This Angela. She caused such conflicting emotions in him. He didn't doubt her sincerity. But who says such things to a total stranger? And far more frightening was her accuracy. He was English, for God's sake. Repression was drilled in from birth. There was no way a simple American girl could see past that.

"I told you. I hate suffering and waste."

"Is that all?"

"Yes." Angela's eyes stayed locked with Rupert's for a moment before she had to look away. "Change of subject. How long have you been writing?" She brought her gaze back to his face.

"For as long as I can remember."

"What do you write? I mean, there must be all kinds of historical novels." Rupert could feel a small part of him thaw towards her. When was the last time someone so genuinely cared about what he did or thought? Well, all right, Jenny, but before her how long had it been?

"Mostly horror stories."

Angela laughed and shook her head. "I picture you more as a Graham Greene instead of a Clive Barker."

"Appearances can be deceiving."

"They most certainly can be." Angela took the tea mugs to the sink and began rinsing them out. Rupert was trying to understand the wistfulness, the sadness, he detected in her voice.

"So, what do you do?"

"Well, I help Jimmy and Bass run the station. They do all the hard work and I count the money. But my real job is teaching computer programming at the local community college. Not the most demanding work, but I enjoy it."

"It is important to enjoy what one does for a living."

"Do you?"

"Not always. It's a curse to have no real say in one's destiny. Fight as hard as you want and nothing changes. Try to walk away from it and it meets you at the next corner, laughing at you. Run as far and as hard as you can, it's always waiting patiently for you to catch up."

"Strange way to talk about being a writer."

"I write in a futile attempt to keep the demons at bay."

"Does it work?"

"No."

The sound of a truck pulling into the parking lot drew Rupert's gaze, but not Angela's. Which was just as well. Even at the best of times, Rupert would not have known what to make of a look filled with such tenderness, compassion and understanding. For who could possibly understand the life of a Watcher? He himself didn't understand it fully. He just accepted his destiny. No. He had resigned himself to it, but he doubted if he could ever really accept it. Not when it cost him the people he cared about most.

"It appears they've made it back safely with my car."

"So it does. Give them another five minutes and they should have it filled and checked out. You're welcome to stay for supper if you like. There's plenty for one more."

"No, I really must be heading back. My friends will worry if I'm not on time."

"It's good you have someone to worry about you."

"Yes, it is."

The sound of the door slamming preceded Jimmy into the room.

"Bass is blowing out your gas filter right now. It was clogged pretty bad. That's what part of your problem was. You was low on gas, but that clogged filter didn't help matters either. If I was you, I'd get that filter replaced first chance I got. We're running a little low on parts, so we ain't go nothing to help you or we'd do it for you."

"Thank you. I'll certainly do that."

"No problem. " And with that Jimmy was gone.

"He's very quiet, isn't he? Ever thought about putting a bell on him?"

"I've thought about it, but the only things he doesn't lose are his tools, so what would be the point?"

"None, I suppose. Still it does take some getting used to."

"Not that much. It's amazing what adaptable creatures we are." There was something besides sadness in her voice this time, although Rupert couldn't quite place it. It seemed to be a mixture of envy and regret. How very odd.

"Yes, indeed. How much do I owe you?"

"That's going to depend on how much gas that little car of yours takes, but I'd say no more than $10."

"Ten dollars. That's about what it costs to fill up the car." Rupert shook his head in disbelief.

"I guessed right again." Angela smiled up at him.

"But surely there's some charge for the towing and whatever it is they're doing to that part I have to replace."

"Gas filter. I'll write it down for you. And no, there surely isn't a charge for the towing or anything besides the gas. This gave Jimmy and Bass something to do besides get underfoot. In case it escaped your notice, those two aren't the world's best conversationalists. What I know about cars could fit in a thimble and what they know about non-car related matters could fit in there with it. I appreciated having someone to talk to. You needed help and we were happy to provide it. End of discussion."

They had reached the car then and Bass was just shutting the hood.

"That'll be $9.58." Jimmy walked around the car. Rupert handed him a ten.

"We ain't got no change."

Only Angela noticed the small cringe that Rupert couldn't quite stop.

"That's quite all right. I don't suppose $0.42 will be the cause of my financial ruin. Thank you all for everything that you've done for me. I won't forget it." He caught Angela's eye at that moment and nodded.

"Don't mention it." Jimmy and Bass headed off towards the garage.

"I do appreciate all you help."

"It was my pleasure. You'd better be leaving if you want to make it back to Sunnydale before dark."

"Yes. Right. Well, goodbye." Rupert got in the car and headed off towards Sunnydale. He felt lighter somehow for the first time in a very long time. He still felt the pain of Jenny's loss intensely. He desperately wanted revenge. He knew killing Angel wouldn't make up for the loss of Jenny, but he felt he owed it to her, and to himself, to make Angel pay for taking her life. Buffy would help him. There was no longer any question of where her loyalties lay. Not that there ever was, but love does tend to turn one into an idiot. How well he knew that. Perhaps tomorrow after school, he, Buffy and Willow could work on a plan to kill Angel--, no, Angelus. He wasn't Angel anymore. Although, what would it do to him if they could restore his soul? Things would never be the same between him and Buffy. But if his love for her returned when he did? Perhaps those gypsies had the right idea after all. Surely there was someone else in the Romany clan who could curse Angelus. Maybe there was something in one of his books or on the Internet perhaps. They would exhaust all possibilities, but Angelus would pay. One way or another.

His purpose had returned. He had never really been content to just watch and record. Now was the time to take a more active role.

The miles back to Sunnydale flew by as he made plans, dreamed dreams.

Thankfully, he had remembered to shut and lock his door when he left. Throwing his keys on the desk, he picked up the phone and punched in Buffy's number.

"Buffy? I'm so glad you answered. I'd like to meet with you and Willow, and Xander and Cordelia I suppose, after school tomorrow. I think we should review all our options where Angelus is concerned and make plans accordingly…. I quite agree…. I'll see you tomorrow at school then. Buffy…I'm glad you're back. Goodnight."

He went to the bookcase where he kept the old journals from past watchers. Maybe there was something in one of them that could help.

"Will you stop that noise?" Angela hated being alone with them after dark. The darkness brought their true selves out in full force. Any restraint they may have shown during the daylight hours was gone. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad except Jimmy seemed to delight in the uneasiness his shape shifting caused her. A panther, a wolf, a vulture all within minutes of each other. This demon's only preference seemed to be whatever form disconcerted Angela most. Bass, at least, was enough of a gentleman – for a demon – to at least try not unnerve her any more than was necessary.

"I believe our little witch is infatuated with the Watcher. Are you going to leave us then? I don't know if I shall ever recover." It was hard to see Jimmy beyond the circle of light that the fireplace gave off, but there was no missing his eyes. The yellow gold irises glowed. "We should have killed him when we had the chance."

"Can't you think of anything besides killing?"

"No. Its is what I do best after all. It's the reason you brought me along, if you're honest with yourself." Jimmy was edging closer to Angela, menacing and quiet. Angela drew the blanket closer to her, inadequate protection but still a comfort. She refused to take her eyes off the fire though. There was something just too unsettling in that face that wasn't entirely animal or human. She had had nightmares for weeks after the first time she saw Jimmy change.

"That's enough, you two." Bass's deep voice resounded throughout the room. "There is to be no killing unless absolutely necessary. Is that understood? Angela was put in charge of this project to ensure that. I've been the guardian of Angela's family for several generations now. Where she can't control you, I can. No harm is to come to the Watcher or the Slayer at any time. They are not relevant to what we are doing here. They can perhaps be helpful, but that is all. If you can't follow those simple orders, then perhaps its time for Angela and myself to go on alone. I certainly wouldn't mind it being just the two of us, but I know Angela would prefer someone a little more, shall we say, human. Which lets you out. Come on. It's late enough for us to hunt and Angela deserves a respite from you."

A subdued Jimmy completed his transformation and padded silently over to the door, waiting to be let out. It was clear he was unhappy with the situation, but lacked the ability to do anything about it.

"Thank you, Bass."

"Think nothing of it. But protect yourself where this Watcher is concerned. It can only end badly." Bass held the door open for Jimmy, bowed to Angela and shut the door softly after himself.

Angela got up from her chair by the fire, made herself a cup of tea and resumed her position by the fire. She snuggled deeply into the chair, her thoughts lost in the patterns of the flames.

"But what could happen before it ends?"


End file.
